


Milestone

by citrusella



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: (no actual doctor in the fic... they just talk about doctor appointments), (well okay he's not like 2 or whatever yet), Autistic Steven Universe, Babies, Concerns fandom had after the following 2 Future eps come up:, Conversations, Delayed Speech, Doctors & Physicians, Episode: s06e14 Growing Pains, Episode: s06e15 Mr. Universe, Gen, Set when Steven is around 15 months old, Steven at Peak Chaotic Toddler™, Toddlers, but not at all set during it, might be subtle but, though it wasn't really a strong AIM, was on my mind when initially planning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:22:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25795831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/citrusella/pseuds/citrusella
Summary: "Okay, so like, the books aren't, like, useless, but they assume you have like the perfect baby. Maybe consider the following: kids are dorks, man."Or: Steven went to the doctor. Once.Or: Greg thinks Steven, at 15 months, is being weird and missing milestones and is worried he's a bad dad so he goes to Vidalia for help
Relationships: Greg Universe & Steven Universe
Comments: 10
Kudos: 78
Collections: lofi fanfics to practice social distancing to





	Milestone

**Author's Note:**

> Before you dive in, if I may interest you in the following:
> 
> Prolonged conversational babbling from Sour Cream when he was a baby... imagine... the deep manly baby voice
> 
> Because it distracted me so now it gets to distract you too XD

…Greg wonders if maybe he comes to Vidalia with baby issues perhaps a bit _too_ much.

It's not like he has other close friends in town, at least not with kids, and the gems are no help… but still.

"Maybe he's just a late bloomer," she says. "Remember how Sour Cream would only say 'meh' until he was almost two? It's probably just like that, y'know?"

"I mean… maybe… but at least we know Sour Cream _knew_ other words, even if he wasn't sayin' 'em! And he made other noises. Babbled or whatever. Steven stopped doing that a couple months ago—like, he still cries and laughs and stuff, and like maybe a _few_ times lately he's found a sound or two he gets _really_ interested in, can't get him to stop, but other than that he's just, like, completely silent! Way less than it used to be. And nothing like when I used to babysit Sour Cream more and it was, like, talk central or whatever even though nothing was words. It's…"

Steven busies himself with stacking a meticulously straight block tower, peering at his completed handiwork for a few moments before knocking it down with a slap.

"Steven," Greg says, "Steven, come over here."

Apparently dissatisfied that one straggler has stayed on the stack, he resets it, trying again until he gets his intended result, paying no mind to his father's request behind him.

"Hmm… maybe he can't hear you?"

"I'd say the same thing, but…" With a darn-near-silent jingling, he pulls the carabiner out of his pocket and before he's even started to sing the song, Steven's head has whipped around and he's stood and run for his father's cool keychain. Greg obliges and hands it to the toddler, his worry just barely melting away as Steven shakes the keychain around for several seconds with a toothy grin on his face and then throws it to the ground, choosing instead to interest himself in what's through the nearest doorway.

He turns most of his attention back toward his conversation with Vidalia. Most of it. "Besides, what would I even do if that were true?"

"You'd learn sign language, or whatever fancy new stuff they're doing with deaf kids nowadays, obviously. You're smart enough, Greg. And if you're not, I'll sock you in the face."

She's only a little joking. Like the mail carrier, Barb, she's not a woman of empty threats.

Back near the doorway, Steven places his hands, palms facing him, between his face and the light filtering in from the kitchen. He wiggles his fingers, separating them and bringing them back together, as if he's scientifically studying the way the light plays through the gaps.

Greg, as if anticipating his next move, remarks, "And then there's this! He does it all the time! Except outside, toward the sun!" His exasperated tone seems to say he's had to keep his son from staring into the sun enough times that it's started to wear on him.

As if having gotten the go-ahead, Steven slams his hands toward his eyes, not hard enough to hurt or slap, but definitely with enough force to knock the unsteady one-year-old off balance, sending him toppling backwards onto the floor. He doesn't even bother to cry or react in the moment, as if this was a part of his grand plan.

"It's weird, right? Nothing about this kind of thing is in the books, and it's kinda freaking me out." He wrings his hands and spares a glance first at Vidalia, then at his little boy.

Vidalia rolls her eyes. "Okay, so like, the books aren't, like, useless, but they assume you have like the perfect baby. Maybe consider the following: kids are dorks, man."

Sour Cream, conspicuously (no matter how much he wants them to think he's just playing his GameChild Accelerate) eavesdropping from his seat on the easy chair, lets out a squeak of protest. Steven, still on his back on the floor, his hands still covering his eyes, begins an altogether over-the-top fit of giggling, apparently party to the funniest joke no one else in the room has heard.

Vidalia, eyebrow cocked, looks from the toddler to the man sharing the couch with her. "Or he's being possessed by your dead girlfriend."

"What?! You really think that's possible!?"

"Geez, Greg! Of course not!" She quiets. "I mean, not that I'm _not_ suddenly wondering if that's a thing… completely non-seriously, of course. Rose was pretty weird. All the gems kinda are."

Greg doesn't say anything. She's right.

"Steven's probably fine. But like, if it worries you that much, maybe take him to a doctor or something?"

"—No." His lips form a thin line of finality, his brow furrowed.

"Greg?" Vidalia's eyes study his face, gaming out the complex non-answer his expression might hold, her own holding mostly concern. Greg doesn't respond.

"…Has Steven… _ever_ been to a doctor?"

Greg averts his eyes, rubs his left upper arm. The answer hasn't come out loud, but it's 100% clear.

"Oh my gosh, Greg! I mean, like, not helicoptering is all fine and good, but baby visits are important, man! Has he even gotten any shots?!" Her expression and tone grow scandalized, but she can't bring herself to become _completely_ disgusted with her friend over his apparent choice.

The question gives Greg pause. "I… he's real healthy… and… one of Rose's powers was healing. He's… I thought maybe he could manage without them?"

Vidalia brings her hand to cover her face. "Okay, let's assume that's even true. What if he _can_ manage without them? But he still gets sick? And then he gives whatever he's got to someone who _can't_ manage? Do you really wanna be singlehandedly responsible for the next outbreak of measles? Or whooping cough? Or _smallpox_?"

"Smallpox was eradicated in the '70s, V."

"Not the point! Quit dodging the question!"

He sighs. "I… I thought about taking him to one of those free weekend vaccination clinics, once. Really. But then I read they'd want a medical history—"

"—So get him a medical history, man!"

"It's not that easy!"

"Why not?!"

" _What if I lose him?!_ "

The silence in the room is so palpable it's like a fifth person. Sour Cream wordlessly goes to the kitchen to concern himself with looking for a snack instead of whatever heavy grown-up issue they're on. Vidalia's eyes are wide. Even Steven, on the ground, has stopped laughing, pulling his hands off his eyes with a confused frown on his face, though whether it's in reaction to the shout or the atmosphere is unclear.

"…Wh— Why would you ever think…"

"I live in a _van_ , Vidalia! He doesn't have a birth certificate! I'm not even sure how to get him a social security number! And let's not forget the Rose Quartz right there in the middle of his body thing! What am I supposed to do, go into the doctor's office and say 'hey, so I'm worried my 15-month-old's missing a bunch of milestones and acting weird and I dunno if I'm wrong or right, maybe I'm paying too much attention, but by the way, he's got a gem where his belly button's supposed to be'? 'Oh, paperwork? We don't have any of that!' 'Well child visits? This is our first!' They'll… I dunno, they'll think I'm part of some cult or something! Or, like, I stole him or something! What if they take him away? What if they take it out? What would even _happen_ to him?!"

Vidalia bites her lip with a grimace, thinking for a few seconds but not arriving at any better place than the hypothetical Greg has posited. "Hey… man— _Greg_. Greg, breathe. _Breathe._ "

Vidalia puts her hand on his shoulder, demonstrates. Greg does his best to follow her lead, a deep breath in, a deep breath out.

Steven tries to shove an entire block into the back of his mouth to soothe his newest tooth coming in and, failing that, whimpers in disappointment before returning to the important work of playing.

"There. Isn't that better?" Vidalia is trying to be soothing. She's not sure it's working.

"…I dunno." Greg glances at Steven, who's humming a firm, quiet tone as he arranges the blocks in a row now, letters facing the same direction as if taking a swing at spelling something… though QRPESXXAGR isn't exactly a word. Something about the nonsense arrangement raises Greg's mood enough that a small smile starts to creep onto his face.

Vidalia puts her thumb to her chin, suggesting, "Um… how about… we can go to the library and try to figure out how to get him papers. Probably. And if the library doesn't work, maybe we can look stuff up on UltraVasta?"

"I still don't understand why you're such a holdout on Boogle, V."

"They're gonna become some massive dot-com conglomerate or something, Greg. I can just feel it. I'm fighting the power."

"…By using a worse search engine?"

"By refusing to bow to corporate interests, Greg! How does it feel to be a sellout?!"

Greg raises his hands in front of him, eyes wide. "Whoa, hold on, this is coming from someone who _still_ works at the T-Shirt Shop."

"Hey, big talk coming from someone who pivoted to grown-up so hard that now he _owns_ the car wash because his boss skipped town," she rebuts.

Greg purses his lips, brow furrowed. "Still don't know what that gang wanted with him…" He sighs, focusing on the subject at hand again. "I just want to be sure Steven's okay, I guess."

The man looks down at a sudden bounce against the leg of his that's not folded on the couch, tiny arms quickly enveloping his shin. "—Deh. Mmmmm. Dah."

Greg's eyes widen, and he pries the boy off his leg, raising him up to look him in the eye. "Schtu-ster? Did you—?" The toddler, apparently not ready to be separated from the furry pillar he had seen fit to embrace seconds earlier, squirms now that he's in his father's hands, face scrunched and arms stiffened as he seems to suddenly find more interest in the denim of Vidalia's pants to his left than in Greg's face.

"Okay, okay, I get it, I'll put you down!" he says playfully, sitting the boy at his feet. Free from his father's grasp, he enamors himself once again in the previously-discarded carabiner.

Vidalia smirks, giving the kid a satisfied once-over, clearly approving of his insistence on what he wants. "I think he'll be just fine, Greg."

Greg smiles gently. "Yeah. Maybe you're right."

She jabs an elbow into his side. "But I'm still helping you set up that doctor's appointment."

**Author's Note:**

> I almost want to write a few fics on the subject of babby to young child Steven? Like a loosely connected series? 0_o


End file.
